


He Brings Me Java, He Brings Me Joy

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy doesn't generally get overly invested in his regulars' lives, but he's never really had a kid for a regular before, and he's not sure why he has one now. He can't help wondering about her.





	He Brings Me Java, He Brings Me Joy

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on vacation this week, which is oddly something that means I have less time to write fic than usual, but more time to hang out on the beach with my girlfriend, so that was good. And now I'm posting on my phone from a car so if anything is weird that's why.

Bellamy likes to think he understands the clientele at Blakery, after four years in business. It's the demographic he was expecting and hoping for when he opened up the place: professionals, older affluent retirees, the people who work for them, and tourists, in roughly that order. First he got the people who just wanted some coffee and saw him near their offices, and then word of mouth got him regulars who live around here and like having a breakfast spot. And he keeps the price point low enough on his coffee--just a buck for anyone who brings their own cup--that he doesn't only appeal to the super wealthy.

Plus, Octavia's baked goods are amazing. He has yet to meet anyone who can resist them.

Which is why they occasionally get kids in. Mostly, they come in with their parents, but every now and then, they'll get a lone child who wants to really splurge with their allowance. Usually, they come in the early afternoon, when it's not too busy, and Bellamy will lean across the counter and ask how much they've got to spend, and they'll figure out the optimal combination of cookies for however much they're willing to spend. It's fun in part because it's so rare, and Bellamy always likes kids.

He just doesn't expect them at 7:15 in the morning in the summer.

The morning rush won't start for another hour or so, and while there are a few people around, they're mostly sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine before it gets too hot.

The girl is small, but he thinks a little older than her size would suggest. She has a look he recognizes from his own childhood, something in her eyes that makes him think she's not sure she really belongs in a place like this, but she doesn't look like she's going to try to steal anything. Most of the baked goods are behind the counter, and she could _try_ to take off with a loaf of bread or a travel mug, but he doesn't get that vibe. And, honestly, he's had maybe one person ever try to shoplift from him, that he knows about. Bread-theft isn't as common as Les Miserables and Aladdin lead him to believe.

She only hesitates for a second, and then she's at the counter, looking through the glass at the bright rows of pastries on the shelves. Bellamy's the only one at the counter at the moment, with the rest of the front-of-house staff helping out in the back or not coming in until eight, and even if he wasn't, it's _his_ store. He can do what he wants.

"How much do you want to spend?" he asks her, and she jumps a little. "Sorry, I know the prices are kind of hard to see sometimes."

The girl considers, and then says, "I've got twenty dollars and I have to get a large coffee and a muffin."

"What kind of muffin?"

"Whichever one looks good," she says, like she's quoting someone.

He nods. "Okay, a large coffee and any of the muffins is going to be about seven bucks, so you've got thirteen left. If you don't spend all the money do you have to give it back?"

She looks surprised. "What?"

"Are you trying to get as much as possible with the twenty, or do you not care?"

"Don't care," she says. "But everything looks good, so I could spend all of it."

"Okay. Are you getting a drink? We've got hot chocolate, chocolate milk, regular milk, juice--"

"I can _read_ ," she says, sounding slightly affronted. She's probably about ten.

"Yeah, but you're looking at the pastries, not the drink list."

"What's the best muffin?"

"I like them all, obviously. But the apple cinnamon is my favorite."

She nods, thinking it over. "Okay. I want one of those, a raspberry danish, a piece of banana bread, the large coffee, and a small milk. Can I afford that?"

He thinks about it, but just for a second. "Yeah, that should be fine. You can even get another piece of banana bread, if you want."

If she realizes he's going to make sure her total is under $20 no matter what she says, she shows no sign of it. "Yeah, that would be good." 

"Cool. One bag okay for the pastries?"

"Yeah."

Since there's still no line, he gets all her stuff together before ringing her up. It comes in at just under twenty dollars even with tax, which is good because if she ever comes in with someone else on the register, he wouldn't want her to get caught with unexpected charges. She gives him the bill, he gives her the change and a carrier for her beverages, and he thanks her and waves her off with a smile. Maybe her parents work around here, and she's hanging out for the day now that school is out. Octavia used to do that, once he started working when he was in high school, and he can see himself deciding that spending twenty bucks would be worth it, just so she wouldn't be too bitter about it.

Not that it matters, of course. A kid coming in isn't a big deal. But he'll take any amusement he can get before eight am, honestly. And she was cute.

It puts him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

*

Two days later, the girl is back. It's 1:45, another relatively slow period after the bulk of the lunch rush, and she's got a bike helmet strapped to her backpack.

"Can I get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread, a large milk, and a mini confetti cupcake?"

"Sure," he says. If she recognizes him, she shows no sign, but that doesn't surprise him. Even when people come in regularly, it often takes them a while to feel comfortable acting like regulars. "Can I get your name for the order?"

"Madi," she says. "M-A-D-I."

Probably a girl who's had her name spelled _Maddie_ a lot. "For here or to go?"

"For here," she says, to his surprise, and once he calls the order, she does settle in at one of the free tables with her sandwich and a book. She stays for about an hour and then carefully buses her table, even wiping it off with a napkin once she's done. 

Then she straps on her helmet and leaves without a backward glance.

It becomes a pattern with her. She doesn't come in every day, but it's at least three times a week, without any clear schedule. She'll get lunch, varying her orders between the kids' menu and the adults'. She always gets milk, but not always a dessert, and she usually reads for a while and then leaves again. It's not exactly worrying, and he's not her keeper or anything, but it does make him curious. She has money and a phone and other possessions, so he doesn't think she's living on the streets or anything. It's not even _bad_ , just weird. She's an outlier among his regulars, and outliers nag at him.

And she's a kid. There's nothing inherently worrying about her coming in, at her age, but he thought this neighborhood was nothing but over-invested helicopter parents. The families who come in don't seem like the types to just let a kid hang out here alone for an hour or two when she could be doing sports or learning Mandarin or whatever else is supposed to get her into Harvard.

And none of that is any of his business, obviously. It has nothing to do with him at all. It just nags at him all the same, an unanswered question. 

He could just ask her, of course, but he has a decent amount of self-awareness. He's a thirty-five-year-old stranger, and asking where her adult is is patronizing at best and actively threatening at worst.

So it's kind of a relief when he encounters her in the wild.

It happens from time to time, of course. Bellamy's apartment is only a five-minute bike ride from the bakery, close enough his commute is easy, but he can save on rent and not feel like he never leaves the same few blocks of city. But he gets customers from all over, and his regulars will sometimes spot him.

It is, in all honesty, kind of awkward. His relationship with most of his regulars falls under the Moe Szyslak definition of well wishing, in that he doesn't wish them any specific harm. There are a handful he actively dislikes, and about twice as many that he looks forward to seeing, Madi among them. 

But even then, it's weird to actually _see_ them. He has very set, basically ritualized interactions with his customers, and no real knowledge of them outside of that. Usually, they just do a kind of nod at each other, this acknowledgement that they recognize each other but have no real relationship, and move on.

This time, he's in line at the grocery store behind a blonde woman with his earbuds in, mostly zoned out, when Madi comes up with one of the variety packs of mini cereal boxes to show the woman.

"Can I get these instead of the Corn Pops?"

The woman frowns, inspecting the boxes critically. To Bellamy's eye, they all look roughly nutritionally equivalent to the Corn Pops, but maybe she has insider knowledge of cereal he doesn't. "Why?" she asks Madi, sounding more curious than anything.

Madi shrugs. "I like variety," she says, as Bellamy already knew.

The woman nods. Now that Bellamy's paying attention, he finds that she's pretty, with delicate wire-framed glasses and a mole on her lip that draws his attention to her mouth. She's also young to have a kid Madi's age, and there's almost no family resemblance. Which is none of his business, but it's still interesting. He doesn't want to pry, but he's always been curious about her, and he would have expected this to help more.

"That's fine, just take this one back," the woman tells Madi, giving her the Corn Pops, and Madi nods and takes off again, without noticing Bellamy at all.

It would be so easy to just let it go. It would be the right call, even. But he still pauses his music and takes his earbuds out. "Is she your daughter?" he asks without thinking, and when the woman bristles, he remembers how weird that is, as a question. "Sorry, I'm, uh--she comes into my bakery a lot? So I was just--curious." He offers a sheepish smile. "This is just getting weirder, right?"

The line moves forward, but at least the woman is smiling now too, albeit a little faintly. "It got less weird first. Blakery, right?"

"Yeah. We don't get a lot of kids coming in regularly, so she stands out."

"I guess she would, yeah." She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. "I'm her foster mom."

It makes a lot of sense, explains the kind of distrustful look in Madi's eyes, the slight caginess in her interactions that's been easing as time passes. She's been coming in for almost three months now, most of summer vacation, and he's been able to see the change in her, day by day.

So this is her new foster mother, and she's probably starting to think this one might actually keep her.

"Cool," he says, and juggles his groceries so he can offer his hand. "Bellamy."

"Clarke. She likes having somewhere to go where she feels--grown up, I think. So thanks for not kicking her out."

"She never did anything to make me kick her out." He clears his throat, awkward. "It's good to know you're, uh--I was always kind of worried her parental figure didn't know where she was or something."

Clarke smiles. "No, I'm aware. I work from home, but it gets boring for her to just hang around with me all day, so she has some approved places she can go. The library, the park, the bakery. She has a phone," she adds, almost defensive. "And I text her when she's out to check in."

"It sounds good to me," he says, honest. "It's summer, she should be having fun." Honestly compels him to add, "I didn't think hanging out in my bakery was fun, but--"

That makes her laugh, a soft, sweet sound. She's _really_ pretty. "Like I said, I think it makes her feel independent. What adults do."

"Better than paying taxes and thinking about the inevitability of death," he says, the dry response coming to him automatically, but luckily she laughs again.

And then Madi is back, looking warily between the two of them. Which he doesn't blame her for; if he were her, he'd be weirded out too. So he raises one hand in greeting. "Hey."

"Hey." She looks him up and down, jaw working slightly. "I don't know your name."

"Yeah, I wore a nametag for about a month before it freaked me out. It usually just let weird older people call me _Bellamy_ when they were telling me I messed up their drink orders." He smiles. "So, yeah, my name's Bellamy."

"Madi," she says, and he offers his hand to her too, and they shake. "What were you talking about?" she adds to Clarke.

"You," she says, without any hint of shame. "He says he's never had to kick you out of the store, so good job with that one."

Madi takes it in stride. "Do you ever kick people out?"

"Sometimes, yeah," he says. "Usually for being drunk or disorderly. I had to kick out this mom once because her toddler was throwing mugs on the ground and she wouldn't stop him because she didn't want to _damage his creative spirit_. Which, there's probably some art museum somewhere that has an exhibit of broken things that I would think was cool, but that doesn't mean I want it in my business."

"Did she pay for the mugs?" Clarke asks. "Or were you supposed to just be grateful for the brush with genius?"

He grins. "Well, okay. I didn't actually kick her out. I just told her that every time the kid broke a mug, the price went up by ten bucks, and she told me it was extortion and left."

"Extortion?" Madi asks Clarke.

Clarke makes a face. "I don't have a great definition off the top of my head. Is it just ripping someone off?"

"I usually think it's blackmail, but I don't know either. She might have just used the wrong word, honestly. But I don't think there's actually a good word for _business owner tells you that he will charge you more if your child keeps breaking things_."

"A reasonable policy?" Clarke suggests, but she's looking at her phone. "Yeah, Madi, extortion is _the practice of obtaining something, especially money, through force or threats_. I guess you could maybe say Bellamy was threatening her, but since her kid was the one breaking things, I think it was probably just the wrong word. A lot of the time when adults use big words, we only sort of remember what they mean."

"Huh," says Madi, nodding, and Bellamy has to smile. He's not sure how long Clarke's been doing the foster-parent thing, but she seems pretty good at it.

"I think there's an open checkout," he says, motioning for Clarke, and she startles, like she'd forgotten where they were. It's a little bit flattering.

"Oh, thanks." She flashes him a quick smile. "Nice to meet you, Bellamy."

"You too. See you later, Madi," he adds, and she smiles too, a little shyer.

"Tomorrow, probably."

He nods. "Cool. See you tomorrow."

They go to the register and he puts his earbuds back in and tries not to watch them. It's not hard, exactly, but they're right there, and he doesn't have anything else to look at. Luckily, it's not long before another register opens up, and he goes to scan and pay for his own items.

By the time he's done, they're gone, and he lets himself smile. He's glad Mafi's got someone good taking care of her, and he doesn't have to worry anymore.

Mystery solved.

*

Clarke comes in for the first time about a week later. 

Or, well, the first time he knows about. It is actually possible she's been in before and he just didn't notice her. But she can't have been in often, and never with Madi, or he would have known her already. 

But he sort of suspects she came in at least once to check it out before she let the kid hang out. She seems like the type.

She doesn't come in with Madi this time either; Madi came in half an hour earlier, greeted him with her now standard, "Hi, Bellamy," and settled into the corner at her usual table. She's been quietly reading, and doesn't seem to notice Clarke's entrance. Bellamy can see her hesitating, but when she goes over to Madi's table before she goes to the counter, Madi doesn't look surprised to see her in the least. Which is good. Part of him was worried this was a fake chance encounter on Clarke's part, interacting with Madi on her own ground or something.

Instead, it looks like they both knew Clarke was joining her, and he lets himself relax and stop overthinking total strangers' relationships.

Or at least _tries_ to. It really is none of his business. But he's a natural worrier.

Once Clarke's dropped off her stuff, she comes to the counter and offers him a smile. She's just as lovely as he remembered, but dressed a little less casually now. Her hair is up in a bun, and she's wearing contacts and the kind of dress that suggests having recently been in polite company, at least to him.

"Hey. Bellamy, right?"

"Nice to see you again, Clarke. Let me guess, Madi talks about us so much you had to try for yourself?"

"I've been in here plenty of times," she says, with a smile. "She found out about it from me."

It's something of a surprise. "Yeah?"

"I don't know if you were working the first time she came in, but--it was just after I got her. She couldn't sleep the first few days, and she was stressed out. So we came here and I told her to come in and get whatever she wanted. I guess, um--" She tucks a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. "I heard that it was a good way to demonstrate trust. Giving her independence, letting her handle money. But I sent her because I liked it."

"I don't remember seeing you before," he says.

"When do you work?"

The question takes him by surprise, but of course it makes sense. When the bakery first opened, he worked all the hours they were open, both because they were open fewer hours and because he was paranoid about the place failing and his entire life falling apart. But now he works a (slightly too long) morning shift, six a.m. to four p.m., and they're open for a good few hours after he takes off.

So Clarke could come in all the time, and as long as she does it after four, he'd never know.

"Until four."

She nods. "I used to come in sometimes, before I got Madi. I was working at the hospital back then."

Bellamy considers this. "So, did something happen?"

"Happen how?"

"You got a child and apparently a career change at the same time," he says. "Was that a coincidence?"

"Not entirely. I knew I wasn't happy, but--" She drums her fingers on the counter, as if she's trying to figure out the right words. It's possible this is her first time justifying herself to a stranger, and he knows how that is. "I wanted to help people, and I guess I was? But--I was helping _people_ as an abstract concept. And I realized I was helping more--the greater good is great and all, but I lost track of human consequences."

"You know that makes you sound like a mad scientist, right?" he asks, and she smiles.

"Yeah, I know. It wasn't anything bad, just--I wasn't happy, I guess. I was in administration, but I went to med school first, so when I was having trouble, my mom suggested I could see if they'd let me volunteer somewhere. And I was in the ER and started talking to Madi."

"And you ended up taking her home and quitting your job?"

Clarke laughs. "Pretty much. I do web design now. I always did some on the side, but--yeah. The official story was that I changed positions and refocused, but--I wasn't happy and I left."

"What happened with her parents?" he asks. Madi is watching them without watching them, eyes flicking over periodically, darting between her book and the counter like she doesn't want them to know about it.

"Her mom. Overdose. She's not--she survived, but she's been an unfit parent for a while. I'm not her first foster parent, but I'd like to be her last."

He nods. "My mom was like that," he adds, at the cock of her head. "Not drugs, but unfit. She didn't always want to be a parent, and that's how being a parent works. You have to do it all the time."

"Is that why you were keeping an eye on Madi?" she asks.

He could give her any number of excuses; he _has_ excuses. But the truth comes out easily. "Yeah. I was a little worried about her, when she first came in."

"What about now?"

"Seems like she's doing pretty well."

Clarke smiles, and it's stupidly nice. He hasn't had anything resembling a crush in so long, he's really not prepared for it. "Thanks for humoring me on that one."

"I mean it."

"Still. I try not to make total strangers validate me."

"Yeah, I get that. I did it all the time when I opened this place up. I made random people on the bus listen to my budget projections."

As he hoped, it makes her laugh again. "Did they help?"

"I felt better, anyway."

"And it's working out for you," she observes. He can see her pause, as if she's making up her mind about something. "I remember when you opened up."

"Yeah?" There's something oddly disconcerting about the idea that she's been here the whole time, a regular, someone who's been supporting him without his knowledge. "Now I feel bad I didn't remember you."

She bites her lip. "That was like four years ago, right?"

"Four years in October, yeah."

"I'm pretty sure my most notable feature back then was the pink hair."

It clicks suddenly, the memory of the cute girl with the curly pink hair. She came in late enough he never had an excuse to ask for her name, but they'd chat a little sometimes. He knew she was at the hospital, and she would stop by after work most Fridays to get a cookie to reward herself for making it through the week. He was into her in that uncomplicated way, where he liked seeing her when she came in, and he missed her when she didn't stop by.

And then he'd switched his hours, and that was it. No more pink-haired girl.

"Holy shit," he says, and her look of sheer delight is enough to kill his embarrassment at having forgotten her, and also at still _remembering_ her, almost four years later. "Wow. I can't believe I didn't recognize you."

"Yeah, you forgot a random girl you haven't seen in like three years," she teases. "What an asshole."

"I didn't forget you," he says. "I just didn't know it was you."

Madi finally gets tired of watching them and comes over to the counter, sliding in next to Clarke. Bellamy's shift is about to end and he knows all the teenage part-timers are watching and judging him, but he doesn't really care. They've got the other customers taken care of, and he's catching up with a regular he lost track of.

One who immediately turns her attention to her kid when she notices her, too. That's a thing for Bellamy. 

"I was waiting for my cookie," Madi says, by way of explanation. It's careful, curious without being accusatory, and Clarke smiles.

"Yeah, sorry. I was just telling Bellamy about when I had pink hair. I should show you pictures of that. Can we get two M&M cookies, and I'll have a large coffee?"

"Sure," he says, and grabs them. "On the house. Since I didn't recognize you. Don't get used to it," he adds, to Madi. "I'm not made of cookies."

"Isn't this your bakery?" Madi asks. "So you kind of are."

"My sister does the baking," he says, handing her the cookie. "You need another drink before I leave?"

"Leave?" 

"I'm done at four, so yeah. You're usually gone before I am, but--"

"We had a meeting with the social worker. Clarke said I could leave early."

"Did it go okay?"

"If you're going to talk to us, you should just come sit with us," Madi says, and when his eyes flick to Clarke, she smiles.

"You want me to bring you another milk when I come?" he asks.

So he ends up sitting with Clarke and Madi, chatting about his own meetings with social workers with his sister after his mom died, and Madi's largely quiet, but it's nice.

When they're ready to leave, he walks them out, and it turns out they're in his neighborhood, so he walks his bike back with them, and he can't help feeling like it's the start of something. Or, well, not the start, but--the next step, maybe.

He's going somewhere good, he thinks. Somewhere he wants to go.

*

"Did you get a girlfriend?" his sister asks, without preamble.

Clarke's started coming in once a week, on Saturdays, now that school has started up. She and Madi come in at the same time now, right around three, and hang out working until he's done. Bellamy finds out, without really having to ask, that Clarke is single, bisexual, and not _against_ dating, but hasn't done it in a while. Which is exactly where he's at too, so--that's nice. It makes him feel like they're on even ground.

"Nope," he says. "But I'm working on it. Honestly," he adds, "I was expecting this earlier. How did it take you this long to get the gossip, O?"

That makes her scowl, and he hides his own grin. He used to get embarrassed and indignant when she teased him about his love life, but then he realized that if he just told her she was right, she didn't have a particularly good counterargument. 

"Maybe I just thought you'd tell me."

"Huh, guilt-tripping," he says. "Interesting choice. But since we're not dating, there's nothing to tell. She's a regular, but she comes in afternoons so I didn't really see her. Now her hours are different and--"

"And she has a kid?"

"Foster kid. She's a regular too. Sorry, do you have an objection for me? What's the issue here?"

Her scowl deepens. "I don't know. You're going to try to date some random regular?"

"No, a specific regular. She was cute four years ago, she's cute now. Why wouldn't I date her?"

"I hate when you're reasonable and shit," she mutters, and he grins and ruffles her hair.

"So, zero followup, huh?"

"Zero," she agrees.

"Well, I like her," he says, because it's obvious and pointless to deny. "I'm working on my next move, so if you've got any ideas for what I should do, you can let me know."

"I guess if she's talking to you she must _like_ giant dorks, so keep on being yourself."

"Yeah," he agrees. "That was my best plan." 

"You know if she likes the baked goods, she's really interested in me, right?"

"I guess. You want me to give her your number?"

It's the wrong thing to say, because she narrows her eyes. "Have you even given her _your_ number? Because that should definitely be your next move if you haven't."

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. Thanks for the assist."

"God, you really like her, don't you?" she asks, shaking her head. "Sucks to be you, Bell."

"That's more of what I was expecting, yeah. Anything to report for the bakery, or you just want to make fun of me?"

"I can do both," she says, and, of course, she can.

She's not broadly _wrong_ , either. Exchanging numbers would be a good step. Asking Clarke out on a date wouldn't hurt either. He has a lot of options, honestly, and he should probably just take one, but he doesn't know how to yet. It doesn't feel _wrong_ , exactly, not as if he's wasting time or screwing up, but he does _like_ her. It would be nice if his future involved more of her. 

Part of him keeps hoping that he'll just run into her again, with or without Madi, somewhere neutral. It's nice walking home with her, but they get to her place first, and it always feels as if that's _her_ place to make a move, and since she hasn't, he doesn't know what to do with it.

And waiting isn't bad, of course. He's happy. He has a good schedule worked out, Clarke on Saturdays and Madi more often, as always. Her school is close by, though, and she gets out at 3:15, so when she stops by after class, he can often go sit with her after his own shift ends. It's a little weird, hanging out in his own bakery with a child who isn't his own, but it's nice too. He always has a book he wants to be reading, and Madi is interested to hear what the book is and why he likes it. 

She also gets a lot of free cookies. He's just accepted that one.

The days vary, but the timing never does, and he's pretty sure she hasn't been in before noon since her first visit to Blakery. So it's both surprising and a little alarming when he leaves his morning consult/interrogation with his sister to open up the doors and finds Madi already waiting outside, with no sign of Clarke.

"Please tell me you're not running away," he says, holding the door open for her. Then he notices tear stains on her cheeks. "Hey," he says, pitching his voice soothing. "What happened?"

"Clarke's dad," she says. "He's in the emergency room. She said he's going to be okay, but--I asked if I could come here. I don't like being there."

His arms twitch, but he resists his natural urge to comfort. Then again, it's not a _bad_ urge, so he asks, "You want a hug?" 

She thinks it over. "Kind of, yeah."

He gives her a quick hug, which he extends when she clings to him. They've known each other for a while, and depending on how she does with Clarke's friends and family, he might actually be one of her more trusted adult figures. Which is weird to think about, but--he likes to think he's pretty good at being a trusted adult figure. He doesn't mind.

"You want to come help me finish morning setup?" he offers, and he makes her a hot chocolate, introduces her to the rest of the staff, and shows her how he opens the store. 

By eight, she's settled in to a table with a bagel and her book, and Miller's clocked in and ruling the coffee station with an iron fist, which means everything is in as good shape as it can be. 

"If I leave, will you keep an eye on the kid?" he asks Miller.

"She's not leaving?"

"She might. But if she doesn't."

"Does she have dietary restrictions or something?"

"She's ten, she can handle herself. Make sure she gets whatever she wants and if she leaves, text me."

Miller thinks it over. "Are you married to her mom yet?"

"Fuck you."

Madi doesn't look surprised when he comes over, but does look surprised when he doesn't sit.

"Any news from Clarke?"

"The doctors are done, but she's waiting to see him. I only met him a couple times," she adds, a little defensive, and he nods.

"Do you know where she is in the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"You think I should bring her some coffee?"

She looks pleased by the suggestion. "And a muffin, yeah."

Together, they pick a few pastries for Clarke, and get a coffee for Clarke and one for her mom too, just in case. He introduces Madi to Miller and tells her that she can let him know if she needs anything, and he and Madi exchange phone numbers, which isn't really like doing it with Clarke, but still makes him feel kind of warm and fuzzy.

He might be in pretty deep already.

In theory, Bellamy knows that he's supposed to do things like check in with the front desk and say whom he's visiting, but he's found that walking into a hospital with food and an aura of confidence is usually enough to convince them that you're supposed to be there. And Madi knew where he was going in a way that kind of twisted up his gut; this is a girl who's spent too much time in hospitals.

He takes the elevator to the third floor and somehow isn't nervous at all. Clarke knows where Madi went, and she's probably not going to be shocked that he's showing up to check on her. The hospital isn't far, and he's pretty sure she knows he likes her. If it's weird, it'll be a nice kind of weird.

Madi was less clear on directions to the waiting room, so he ends up just looking into a few, ends up finding Clarke in the third, sitting in a chair and drumming her fingers on the armrest, trying to look at a magazine and not doing very well with it. Her focus is nowhere near the door, so she doesn't see him come in, and he has to give her arm a gentle shake to get her attention.

The way her whole face relaxes at the sight of him is, admittedly, pretty gratifying. If nothing else, he doesn't worry that he shouldn't have come.

"Hey. Madi and I thought you might need breakfast. I know hospital food isn't great."

"Thank you. You really didn't have to come."

"I volunteered." He hands her the coffee and the bag of muffins, and they stand awkwardly for a second. He has no idea where her mother is, but her eyes are red-rimmed and she looks worn out. Whatever happened, it probably woke them up. So he smiles a little, gives her the same offer he gave Madi. "You want a hug?"

She doesn't bother responding, just collapses into his arms. It feels more like exhaustion than anything else, so he rubs her back and makes soothing sounds and even lets himself nuzzle her hair. He feels a little guilty that he can't turn off the part of his brain that recognizes how good she feels in his arms and how nice she smells, but it's not dominating his thoughts or anything. Just present.

"Thank you," she says again, muffled against his neck. 

"You should have called the bakery. I would have delivered."

He can feel her smile too. "You were going to take care of Madi," she says, and it's enough to startle her out of his arms.

"She's still at the bakery," he tells her, before she can ask. "My friend Miller's keeping an eye on her. And we exchanged numbers, so--I think she's worried about you. She tagged me in."

She bites her lip on a smile. "Thanks for coming."

"You can stop at three thanks, okay? It's not far. I don't mind."

"I'll leave you a really good Yelp review. Five stars for customer service."

"Clarke," he says, voice gentle. "I'm not here for--"

"I know." After a second of hesitation, she slides her arms back around him, leaning on him like she can't quite support herself, and he kisses her hair. 

"I didn't really hear what happened."

"His heart. He's fine, aside from some lifestyle changes, but--panicked calls from the hospital in the middle of the night always suck."

"Yeah. Can you see him soon?"

"I think so. My mom's in with him now, he can only have one visitor. I'll go in when she's done."

"Yeah," he says, from lack of anything else to say. "You should have your coffee. And your muffin. You're probably hungry and--"

"And you need to get back to work. It's probably going to be the breakfast rush soon, and--"

"I can stay," he offers. "They'll be fine. It's not like I can get fired."

"I thought you quit," she admits, soft. "Four years ago. Which--it didn't _matter_ , or anything. I was just wondering what happened. I didn't know it was _your_ bakery."

"I'm one of the Blakes, yeah." He gives her back one final rub and lets go, nudging her to the table where she put the muffins and coffee. "You want me to tell you about how we got started?"

Her smile is a little weak. "You could also leave."

"Or I could eat one of the muffins."

That makes it stronger. "Or that."

He stays until her mother comes out, gets introduced as _my friend Bellamy, he owns the bakery down the street_ , and heads out when she goes in to see her dad.

Madi's still in the corner, so he grabs a coffee and sits down across from her. It's busier than it usually is when she's around, and he can see some of his regulars trying to figure out if she's his daughter or what. It would be a slightly awkward thing to explain, but _my friend's kid_ feels fairly honest.

"Is she okay?" Madi asks.

"Yeah. I left when she went in to see her dad. She said she'd come pick you up in like twenty minutes."

"Thanks for going," says Madi. "I don't like hospitals. And I felt weird being there."

"I'm glad I could help," he says, feeling a little too honest. "You need anything else?"

She shakes her head. "This is good."

He leans back a little, closing his eyes. "Yeah. This is good."

*

Clarke picks Madi up and gives Bellamy a last quick thank you, but they have things to do now that the day is properly started, and he does too. Miller gives him some limited shit, but it's hard to actually give someone too much grief for going to the hospital to check up on a friend whose father had a heart attack, so even that's fairly limited.

He still doesn't have Clarke's number, so he can't call her to check in, but he also figures that's probably _good_. He'd be texting her non-stop to make sure she was okay, if he had her number, and it would probably be weird.

But she shows up just before four the next day looking mostly better, overly serious but not exhausted or tearful. He gives her a wave and taps his wrist, and she nods and goes to wait in the corner.

He brings her a coffee and offers a small smile. "How's your dad?"

"A lot better. Already home and telling us he's sorry he made us worry."

"That's good."

"Yeah." She worries her lip. "Can we talk?"

A large part of him wants to go for the snarky dick response, but there's a time and a place for snarky dickery, and this clearly isn't it. "Sure. Here, or--"

"Maybe walking home?" 

"Yeah."

They fall into step together easily, Bellamy walking his bike while Clarke sips her coffee. It's late October, just starting to get into jacket weather, and he feels like he should be doing something different with his hands, even though they're fully occupied with the bike.

But this was Clarke's idea, so it's probably on her to start the conversation. He doesn't have to do anything.

"I guess it's pretty obvious that I like you," she offers.

"I was hoping you did, yeah," he says. "I like you too."

She smiles. "No offense, but--your bakery is great, but I probably wouldn't have come in so much if you weren't cute."

"But you didn't leave after you thought I quit, so you must have liked the bakery too."

She bumps her shoulder against his. "I like your bakery. You don't have to be offended that I don't like your store, Bellamy."

"I know." He exhales. "It sounds like there's more to this conversation, though."

"I've had a daughter for--well, you know how long I've had her. We're still getting used to each other. And she's--she trusts you, which is amazing. I don't want to ruin that just so I can make out with my old barista crush."

She sounds so distressed he can't even be offended; he just smiles. "Is that all you're looking for?"

"No," she admits, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'd probably still just be pining and trying to figure out how to ask you out if I didn't have the kid, but I feel like I should be an adult. I want to date you, but I don't know if--"

He ducks his head down, quick, to press his mouth against hers. Like he hoped, her lips are soft and she still smells lovely and feels as if she fits against him perfectly. It's just a whisper of a kiss, a few seconds, but she's smiling when he pulls back.

"Sorry," he says, without contrition. "I just really wanted to do that before you told me we couldn't date."

She laughs. "Well, I'm not going to say that _now_."

"That was the plan, yeah."

"I wasn't going to say it before either. I want to figure it out. I just don't know what I'm doing. I was bad at dating before I had the kid, and I already feel like I'm stealing you from her, so--"

"It's not a competition," he says. "I like Madi. I like you. And technically I was your barista crush four years ago, so if it _was_ , you had dibs." He juggles his hands on the bike so his left is free to squeeze her fingers. "I know I'm biased, but I don't think having a foster kid should mean you can't date. And the fact that she already likes me is probably an argument in my favor." He worries his lip. "Have you talked to her about dating at all?"

"No. I didn't think it would come up for a while."

"But you totally had a thing for me four years ago," he teases.

"Shut up."

"It's cool, I had a thing for you too. Cute pink-haired girl. Why do you think I felt so bad I didn't remember you?"

"You were the one who changed your schedule to avoid me." She bites the corner of her mouth. "I would really like to date you. But Madi comes first."

"Yeah," he says. "I know. So, uh--talk to her, and I'll give you my number and you can call me if you want. Or just keep coming to the bakery. We can hang out even if we don't date."

"But you want to date," she says.

"Yeah. And--I _do_ like Madi. She's not a downside for me or anything. I'd like to--I want to be a part of your life, okay? I'm not thinking I won't have to--"

She tugs him down for another quick kiss. "I know. I'll talk to her."

"Yeah," he says, trying not to grin too much. "Keep me posted."

*

Madi comes in the next day. He knew, from Clarke's texts, that they'd talked, and Madi was thinking over the new information. Which makes sense to Bellamy, and he honestly isn't surprised she wants to talk to him. In fact, if he's honest, he even feels a little guilty about it, because he knows what Clarke meant about her. He's an outsider, someone who probably felt unbiased. Even if he liked Clarke too, he wasn't really a part of their lives.

Dating Clarke would mean he was, and that he was an actual parental figure of some kind. It's a lot of change, and it might feel like a loss. Maybe even a betrayal.

But she wants to talk, so that's good. He raises one hand in greeting. "Hey."

"Hi."

"Should I give you a free cookie? That's a good first step, right?"

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "It's not like I didn't _know_ ," she says. "You guys are so obvious. As soon as she found out about you she was like, _oh, yeah, I want to come in with you and do some work there. It's such a nice place_."

He bites his lip on his own smile. "So you were wondering what took us so long, huh."

"No, it was kind of nice. Not--she worries a lot, about doing the right thing, I guess. Being a good foster parent."

"Yeah, my mom never asked me before she got a boyfriend."

I wouldn't mind her dating you," Madi admits, soft. "I don't want to _stop_ her."

"Yeah, I don't want you to either," he teases, making her smile again. "Look, I know you guys are still getting used to even being a family, I get that. I don't want to make it harder for you. But I like you, and I like her. It would be cool if we could hang out more. I could read on your couch instead of here."

"And you'd date Clarke."

"I like Clarke, so, yeah. I would want to date her, probably. But that doesn't have to be--we don't have to date. I could just be, uh--" He makes a face. "Family friend."

She snorts. "You could not."

Madi probably doesn't even know he kissed her before she could finish the dating conversation, so it's probably true. "I could try for a little while."

"You don't have to," says Madi. "Like I said, I'm not going to stop you. It's not _my_ decision."

"No. But we care what you think."

"I think you guys like each other. And she's not going to be--you won't forget about me or anything. Or--"

"No, we won't." He rubs the back of his neck. "You're the one who came here, so did you have something specific to ask about?"

She thinks about it. "I don't know. I wanted to see if you were worried too, or if that's just Clarke."

"She's more worried. Like you said, she doesn't want to screw it up."

"And you're not worried about that?"

It's bizarre to find he isn't. "I'm good, yeah," he says. "I know you're going to be fine, because you've got Clarke, and you're not going to lose her. And me and her are going to be fine, because we're adults."

"Okay." She takes a deep breath, nods. "So, you want to come back home with me?"

"Sure. You want a free cookie?"

She smiles. "Are you going to give me free cookies until I like you?"

"It's been working so far, why would I stop?"

"Chocolate chip, thanks."

He grabs the cookie and the two of them bike back to Clarke's together. He's been by before, but he's never gone inside, and he'll admit to being just a little bit nervous. 

"Did you tell Clarke I was coming?"

"No," says Madi, opening the front up with blithe unconcern. "But she won't mind. She likes you."

"Yeah, I got that. You probably shouldn't bring any other weird guys home, though."

"Just you, yeah." 

They go up to the second floor and find Clarke sitting on the couch, scowling vaguely at her laptop. Her hair is stuck up with chopsticks and she's wearing her glasses, and he has to admit, casual Clarke might be his new favorite thing. Even if he feels a little guilty.

"Hey, welcome back," says Clarke. "Did you talk to Bellamy?"

"Yeah," says Madi. "He's going to read here."

"When?"

"Hi," says Bellamy, and she practically jumps out of her skin. When she meets his eyes, flushing, he gives her a small smile and a wave. "I didn't know she didn't tell you."

"I'm wearing _pajamas_ at four in the afternoon," she says, and he sits down next to her on the couch with his book. 

"I would be too, if I worked from home. Do you mind if I stick around?" he adds.

She bites her lip, the red leaving her face as she gets used to having him there. "No, I don't mind."

"Cool."

Madi settles down on his other side, pulling a textbook out of her bag and putting her feet up on the coffee table. After a few minutes, Clarke shifts, leans her head against his shoulder, and he leans down to press his lips against her hair.

It doesn't exactly feel like a _date_. But it's definitely the best afternoon he's had in a long time.

*

He takes Clarke on their first official date a week later, in that they dress up a little and get dinner and Madi is at a friend's house instead of with them. It's awkward for all of about five minutes, when they're both in some weird _date mode_ , and then he asks if Madi's test went okay and they remember that they're actually friends who like each other, and all at once it's easy. They do the first-date conversations they haven't had yet, of which there aren't many, and then it's just hanging out, talking about work and Madi and Octavia and their lives. It feels like the first time they've been alone together, but of course it isn't. They've known each other for a while, as it turns out.

"I kind of miss the pink hair," he teases, and she ducks her head, laughing.

"I showed Madi pictures, she thinks I should do it again. I'm not sure, though. Maybe a new color."

"If you want. But blonde's good too," he says, letting himself reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. She leans into it, and he lets his heart turn over on possibility.

This could be so good.

He kisses her goodnight outside and then she drags him into the foyer so they can actually _kiss_ , her tugging him in by his waist and not letting go until they're both breathless.

"So you're going to go out with me again, right?" he teases.

She nudges her nose against his jaw. "As soon as possible, yeah. Goodnight, Bellamy."

He leans in to kiss her one last time. "Goodnight, Clarke."

The next day is Saturday, and Clarke and Madi are in at the usual time. Clarke leans across the counter for a kiss, and Madi looks kind of fondly indulgent, as if she doesn't really _approve_ , but has accepted this as one of their quirks.

"What are you doing tonight?" Clarke asks.

"Hanging out with you guys, I assume."

Madi is grinning. "We're going to dye our hair. I want a blue streak, and Clarke's going to do purple. Do you want one?"

"I think I'm good," he says. "But I can help if you want."

"I want," says Madi, the total lack of hesitation making him almost as happy as the kiss from Clarke did. "It'll be fun, right?"

If their new routine is going to involve him and Clarke getting dinner sometimes, and making out when they're alone, and him following her and Madi home after work, he's fine with it.

If he's any judge, it's going to be fucking _great_. 

"Yeah," he says, grinning. "Can't wait."


End file.
